


On Call

by teskodanceparty



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teskodanceparty/pseuds/teskodanceparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She leaves for work the next day hours before he is awake. When he finally gets up there’s a post it not stuck to the center of his chest. He recognizes the handwriting from prescription bottles he had seen laying around the clubhouse. ‘Thank you.’</p>
<p>That’s how she thinks it starts.</p>
<p>(Or! How it might have gone if Tara left and Juice went with her.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Call

**Author's Note:**

> Veers off from canon after 'Fruit for Crows'
> 
> title from Kings of Leon

She drives for a few hours before she hears them. Over the sound of the radio and her boys in the back seat she’s lucky to hear it at all. But there it is, the steady rumble of a Harley not far behind her. She expected it, hates that Jax still feels the need to have someone look up on her. She knows it won’t be him personally, is a little bitter about that fact, but under all of it she’s grateful. It’s something familiar and she’s always liked any of the guys who could be tailing her. So when she sees a turn off for a gas station and there’s a jack-in-the-box in the same lot she runs over with Abel and Thomas sleeping in their stroller while she orders a couple burgers.

By the time the Harley pulls up beside her she’s finished pumping gas and feeding Abel small bites of her chicken patty. She’s leaning against the driver side door, soda in hand and the smell of warm food coming off the hot bag in her seat. When it’s Juice pulling his helmet off, she hesitates, just for a second before smiling and offering him the bag. Of all the men it could have been she hadn’t expected him, but it’s a welcome surprise. They’d always gotten along well enough.

“Thanks Doc.” He says, that brilliant smile reaching his eyes for the first time she’s seen since Stockton. She smiles back, sipping her drink and nodding.

“Not a problem.” She tells him, and it’s really not. She’s got a job waiting for her farther up north, enough money saved away that even without the cash Jax had pushed on her as she walked out the door she wouldn’t have worried much. They stand in a comfortable silence until he’s done eating. He opens his mouth to say something, she has no idea what, and Abel starts crying for his daddy. She doesn’t know what to say then, her smile going tight around her eyes as she turns to sooth the boys.

She can see him out of the corner of her eye, his hands shaking slightly as he tugs at the neck of his sweatshirt. It’s the first time she’s noticed he isn’t wearing his cut in the ten minutes they’ve been there. She frowns but doesn’t ask about it, doesn’t know if she wants to know. It’s not until the hum of the air conditioning in her car is blowing chilled air in her face that she touches the skin at her throat, eyes going wide, gasping. She hadn’t noticed the bruises right away, some of the skin around his neck red and rubbed raw. She had heard Chibs talking about finding Juice, about a lucky broken branch and a length of chain taken off the back of the tow truck and the thought of all of it has her pulling over fast. She rushes out of the car before she loses her meal all over the upholstery.

She stays kneeling with her head between her legs until she hears him pass. Abel is probably getting fussy and Thomas will need to be changed soon but she’s running on autopilot, and she can’t bring herself to think about anything other than the necklace of bruises and what could have pushed him to it.

~~

He helps her move her things into the new house when they get there, works with her new neighbors to pull cribs and mattresses and bed frames through doors that aren’t wide enough to a house that is miles away from home. She doesn’t imagine arguing when he goes to set up her electronics, the slightly manic glint in his eyes promising the best cable package and faster internet connection at the lowest price.

He’s staying in the guest bedroom farthest from her bedroom, snoring as he tosses in his sleep when she gets home from her first shift at the hospital.   kitchen and half of a pizza in the fridge with a note stuck to it. It says _‘Thanks Doc.’_ No signature, letters cramped together on the crumpled scrap of paper like he had found it in a pocket. She sighs, suddenly tired, eyes stinging with tears she refuses to shed because she just doesn’t know him as well as she should. But she’s willing to try and change that fact.

She leaves for work the next day hours before he is awake. When he finally gets up there’s a post it not stuck to the center of his chest. He recognizes the handwriting from prescription bottles he had seen laying around the clubhouse. _‘Thank you.’_

That’s how she thinks it starts.

~~

The marks around his neck had left behind scars, light imperfections against his summer tan that she hadn’t noticed at first because she’s spent enough time pretending not to see them in the first place. She thinks that’s the reason he decided to stop shaving his head, the lightning bolt designs that had once acted as sort of book ends for the mohawk have been swallowed up by bristling waves of dark stubble. He doesn’t grow it long, just enough to cover the tattoos. It doesn’t make a bit of sense but even now she’s afraid to ask. Not so much because she fears the answers but because she knows it will hurt both of them to talk about it. She avoids bringing it up just as she tries not to let her eyes linger on the black and white depiction of the Virgin Mary on his forearm he had gotten about a month after they had moved. When she can’t help it she can almost make out the faded reaper under the new ink. It’s more comforting than it should be.

~~

Juice’s mourning period lasts just under a year after they leave Charming. It’s Abel’s birthday and she’s exhausted. She’s been working insane hours to actually be able to get a whole weekend for this. Juice has been doing really well with juggling a part-time job as tech support for the hospital Tara works in and taking care of the boys with her. He pushes a stroller carrying Thomas, Abel in his arms, both of them sleeping as he walks through the kitchen and past Tara pulling a cake out of the fridge to frost. His eyes are shining bright, and his smile happy as he bumps her hip with his on his way to the boy’s room. When he comes back into the kitchen he’s still smiling. He pulls her into a hug, swinging her around and ignoring her surprised gasp and the fact that the kitchen isn’t big enough for this.

“Hey Tara,” He says and doesn’t seem to even realize what he’s doing. He’s still holding her and he leans in, kissing her lightly and she freezes. Not only is this the first time they’ve touched without him being injured or it being more than a quick squeeze of someone’s shoulder or pat on someone’s back, but he had kissed her. And called her Tara, not Doc or Knowles or one of the silly nicknames Abel had given them. He notices it when she freezes against him, eyes gone wide and breathing shallow and he looks suddenly scared, back-pedaling fast.

“Oh, shit. Look Tara I-shit. I’m sorry about that.” He sputters, pulling her in for yet another hug. This time she lets her arms go around his middle, his body warm through the worn cotton of his t-shirt. Her face is impossibly close to the scars on the side of his neck. She’s not sure what’s about to happen, only that as soon as he pulls away enough to search her face Thomas begins to cry and they jump apart like they’d been electrocuted. She goes to check on him, saying a silent thank you to whatever divine being decided to intervene. When she comes out Juice is on the couch, a glass of water half full with ice balanced on his knee. He’s staring hard at what looks like Mean Girls on the television. There’s an apology written in frosting on Abel’s birthday cake. She smiles, evens it out, squeezes his arm as she passes him to go back and wake up the boys.

Abel calls him “Juice.” Thomas, who is learning to talk but refuses to speak to him, just gurgles and grins. She watches Juice communicate through wild hand gestures and big expressions. She can’t remember if Jax was ever around as much as he is or if Jax was anywhere near as good with the boys as Juice seems to be.

~~

She gets home from work early one day. It’s rare that she beats Juice home, but the house is empty and all hers for a few hours before he gets here. The boys are still at the day care down the road and usually he picks them up on his way home but Tara is in a great mood today. She calls him, tells him to try and get off work now. The concern in his voice is immediate and makes her smile even as he’s asking her what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” she murmurs, inhales deeply and lets it out slow, “Let’s get dinner, just us.” There is a long enough pause that she starts to worry herself before he replies.

“There’s that new Chinese place downtown?” he makes it a question and she grins.

“Sounds great, I’ll see about reservations, that alright?” She’s kicking off her tennis shoes as she speaks, socked feet wiggling against the carpet. If Thomas were he he’d grab at her toes and laugh. For a second she wants to call Juice back, because he’s already hung up and probably on his way home, wants to tell him to pick up the boys and she’ll make a roast at home, anything. She doesn’t do it but the urge is there in the back of her mind as she gets ready to go out up until she hears his key in the lock and he’s stomping down the hall into his room. She lets out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding as he peeks his head around the door frame and greets her. And then his mouth kind of falls open and the look on his face is so startled she laughs.

They get dressed up, and she doesn’t know where he found a pair of slacks but he’s wearing them as he walks her to their table and pulls out her chair. He orders for her, not because he’s an asshole but because they’ve been living together a year and a half and he knows what she likes. They eat and joke and laugh and it’s an all-around nice end to a pleasant work day for both of them.

Tara drives on the way home, Juice smiling in the passenger seat as they pull up to the day care. He hops out, gives her a look that says plainly he can handle it, stay in the car. When he comes back out, he’s smiling and it’s all soft around his eyes. He’s cradling Thomas to his chest, Abel in the stroller and it tightens something in the center of her chest she hadn’t known could still do that.

They are silent except for the rustle of sheets as they tuck the boys into bed. He smiles at her over Thomas’ crib, nodding his head towards the door and mouthing ‘kitchen.’ She shakes her head and starts to turn when Thomas rolls onto his side, thumb going to his mouth and he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Papa Juice.’ To say that she rushed out of the room was a bit of an understatement. She threw herself through the doorway, sprinting the short way down the hall into the kitchen. She should go to bed, should ask him to leave, should have asked him to leave months ago but didn’t, couldn’t. She doesn’t think she could do it now.

She’s still breathing hard when he pads barefoot into the room. She wishes he was wearing more than the dark undershirt and drawstring pajama bottoms at the same time she wishes he wasn’t wearing anything at all. He’s sitting too close, his face full of concern but under all that he’s amused she thinks and she can’t figure why.

“This isn’t funny.” She grumbles as a smile threatens to stretch across his mouth. She frowns because she’s never been able to stay mad at him. Even when he was being incredibly dense she couldn’t do it. And then he’s laughing, trying to keep quiet and failing and she’s frowning harder.

“I’m sorry, you’re right it’s not funny at all.” He says, even though he’s clearly still laughing.

“Stop laughing at me Juice” She growls. He pulls her hand towards his, holds it in both of his and keeps smiling.

“It’s just-Christ, Tara,” He stops for a second, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in what she had jokingly deemed his thinking face,

“I’ve been here the whole time. Every minute of it. I’m watching your boys grow up and I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to be here, like this…” he trails off and she knows what he means.

Back in Charming she had had Jax, but not fully. There had always been some club thing he had to take care of that always seemed to take precedent over the fact that she was raising their family on her own. And then she left and Juice was suddenly there. Not just when he could get away from obligations, but really there. She saw the way he softened when he looked at Abel and Thomas, the fierce way he was willing to protect them, all three of them, even though they aren’t his family. Except that somehow, they’ve become exactly that, and Tara sees that now.

“I know.” She whispers, pulling her hand free. She places it on his cheek and watches his eyes fall shut slowly, like he’s afraid to look away, like this isn’t real. She lets her hand slide down to the side of his neck, fingers dancing against the old scars there as she leans in. His lips are soft and impossibly warm and he doesn’t react at first. And then suddenly he is, his hands cupping her face and his mouth feverish against hers. They stay like that for so long Tara is surprised when they pull apart and the sun isn’t up.

They both smile now, and she leads him past the boy’s room, stopping to lean against the door way and make sure they’re sleeping soundly, past his room and into the master bedroom, shuts the door behind them and doesn’t even think about stopping him when he pushes his body against hers and her back against the door. They’re both late for work in the morning.

That’s how it really starts.

~~

 

He still works part-time, still rides a noisy Harley that isn’t safe for anyone, especially their boys. He still picks them up (from school now, not day care) on his way home, bringing home a pizza or cooking dinner for them and leaving left overs with notes stuck to them when she has to work late. He still smiles that impossibly bright flash of teeth that could light up any room. He still has the scars around his neck, even fainter now than they had been that first night they spent together. Tara still likes to run her mouth over them after they kiss, and the way it makes him shiver. She loves him, loves this family they built out of the remains of the broken one’s they had to leave behind because now this really is her home.


End file.
